


Cuddles and Head Make Marcel a Happy Boy

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, George hugs his sadness away, George/ Marcel fluff, Hand Jobs, Harry Styles/ George Shelley/ Marcel smut, Harry turns things sexy, M/M, after Harry destroyed Marcel's life, in the office, the dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:38:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George is the graphic designer, and Marcel is the marketing guy. When their idea gets shut down by One Direction, they cheer each other up with cuddles and kisses. And when Harry comes in to apologise, things take a turn for the sexy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuddles and Head Make Marcel a Happy Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is pretty much for me. I wanted a George/ Marcel fluff thing, but I also wanted Harry to be in there. And Harry just makes things a million degrees hotter, so it became a sex thing. 
> 
> Enjoooooooy xoxoxoxo

When Marcel had left George, he’d practically skipped out. They’d run through the presentation, George giving his colleague tips on what he should mention about the pictures; what would impress the world’s biggest boyband. And Marcel had been buzzing to get it started, to show his idols all of their hard work. 

George had spent the previous week putting the images together on his laptop, going off the design team’s notes and sketches. He’d certainly done better than The Village People knock-off posters before, but he still liked them. It had been fun, Googling _One Direction shirtless_ and _shirtless boybands_ and hanging out with Marcel, the guy who liaised with the marketing and design teams. He hadn’t spoken much to him before now, at least not about things not work related, and he quite enjoyed his company. He was sweet and friendly and one of those people that was just so nice to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it. He was smart and talented and knew strange facts about animals that George really liked to hear. And he was quite good looking, with deep dimples and kind eyes magnified by his thick glasses, and it was hard for George not to stare. Because Marcel just always seemed to be grinning, and that made George grin, so they were grinning together more often than not and it made George feel all swirly. 

Except when Marcel came back into his own small office, where George had been waiting for him with a cup of tea, and the look on his face made George’s fall. 

“How did it go?” George asked hesitantly, because he really didn’t want to know but he sort of needed to. 

Marcel walked silently past George, behind his desk and slumped into his chair. Then he took off his glasses and breathed in deep and wailed. Big fat tears slid down his face, and George just sat watching with two steaming mugs in his hands. Until Marcel sucked in three deep breaths, took a tea off him with one hand and picked up his tie with the other to wipe his eyes. 

“They…” Marcel hiccupped. “They didn’t like it. They laughed at me.” With every sniffle, George’s heart broke a little more. “They broke them, George! The posters!” 

He started to cry again, and George was quick to his side. He sat on the desk in front of Marcel and threw his arms around his friend’s shoulders, hugging him tight so there was no space between their hearts. He felt the tears dropping onto his shoulder, and Marcel’s hands rest on his lower back, and shallow breaths against his neck. 

“It’s alright, Marcel. We’ll think of something.” George hushed into his neck, where he’d unconsciously buried his nose. 

And Marcel’s fingers gripped his shirt, curling his fists against George’s back. “But George, what if I’m not given another chance? What if Harvey…”

George cut him off with a kiss on top of his head and pushed himself up as he said “If he lets you go, the marketing team would fall to pieces.” And Marcel blinked up at him with wet eyes that shimmered jade. 

He sniffled and took his tea and whispered “Thankyou George. You’re always so nice to me.”

It made George smile, and he reached out to grip Marcel’s shoulder. “I’m just telling the truth.” 

Marcel smiled sweetly back at him, and pushed his glasses up his nose, and stood up in front of his chair. But George was still there, in front of the chair, so now he was pressed tight between Marcel and the desk, backs of his thighs digging into the wood. And Marcel hugged George to him again, and whispered thanks into his ear, and this time it felt that much more intimate. 

Marcel wasn’t crying anymore; he was resting his chin on George’s shoulder and his hands were creeping up to play with the end of the jacket’s hood that was hanging down his back. And Marcel’s feet were shuffling forward so their hips were pressed together, George pressed even further into the desk, but this time he had one of Marcel’s thighs between _his_ thighs. 

And George really, really liked it. But he wasn’t sure if he was meant to like it. If this was the way Marcel hugged, just normally, nothing sexual; how he’d hug his mother. So he tried hard to steady his breathing, and he was still trying when Marcel pulled his face away from his neck and stopped it an inch from George’s nose. 

George’s eyes dropped down to the lips in front of him, so pink and full and big, the kind that would fit perfectly against his. His tongue flicked out unconsciously to wet them, and Marcel traced the movement and George shivered. Full bodied, pressed so tight against Marcel that the other boy must have felt it. 

“George?” was all Marcel had to say, before the gap was closed and the pretty pink lips met. 

There were fingers in hair and soft little moans and hips sliding against each other. There was one of Marcel’s large hands open-wide against the small of George’s back, pulling him closer, when the door was open and both boys jumped apart. 

The door was slammed closed and the person yelled sorry, then knocked, then re-entered. And it was Harry Styles, from One Direction. Whose blush, as far as they could tell from his revealing shirt, went all the way down his chest. “I should have knocked, I’m so sorry!” he said, loud and quick, rushing towards them with open, pleading hands. And tripping over a pile of paper on his way.

On instinct, both George and Marcel rushed over to Harry, where he was kneeling on the ground to pick up all the papers he had knocked and muttering apologies. 

“It’s fine, really.” Marcel ensured him with a little smile, one that George didn’t think Harry really deserved. 

“No, I’m really clumsy, sorry. My legs are too long and my feet are too big and they get caught on things sometimes.” Harry stood with the freshly piled paper and placed it on Marcel’s desk. 

“Umm, is there anything I can do for you Mr. Styles?” and Marcel asked it so sweetly, eyes fluttering from behind his glasses, hair standing at all ends from what George had done to it with his fingers, that George couldn’t really blame Harry for the way he coughed and blushed redder. 

“I just came to apologise. For me and my mates and the way we behaved. It was very unprofessional. We shouldn’t have laughed at you and your ideas. So yeah, sorry.” Harry said it like a little speech he’d prepared, and George didn’t like that. He also didn’t like the way Marcel was smiling at Harry, and liked that smile much better when it was directed at himself. 

“You should apologise, it was very rude what you did. Marcel was very upset.” George chastised, glaring at the popstar who thought he could waltz in and do whatever he wanted. 

Harry’s eyes flicked over to him, and George could only blush with the way they appraised him, gliding languidly from head to toe. And Harry smiled, like he liked the view. “I truly am sorry. I’ll make it up to you in whatever way you’d like.” 

“It’s no bother, really.” Marcel said quickly. “I’ll- I just have to start again, that’s all.” 

“I’ll help you both with ideas then, how we’d like to be marketed, what we were promised this movie would be.” Harry sat down on the only other chair available in the room, and Marcel made his way back to his own desk. Which just left George, standing with no real reason to be there. He was just the photo-shop kid. 

Marcel was nodding now, all excited, grinning wide like everything had been forgotten. It probably had, really, because Marcel was that kind of nice. 

Harry was pulling the chair over so it was across the desk from Marcel, and George sighed loudly to remind them of his presence, but they continued to share dimpled grins. 

“I’ll be off then?” he finally asked, and Marcel finally tore his eyes away from the boybander in front of him. 

“No, George, stay!” he squeaked desperately.

“Yeah, do.” Harry added with a smile that looked genuine enough, and his eyes did that thing again, where it looked like he could see through George’s clothes. Then he patted his lap and said “You can come sit on here.” 

George blinked, then blushed, then looked over to Marcel. Who was watching them open mouthed, gaze flicking between the two messy haired brunettes. “Yeah, maybe that would be good?” Marcel finally stuttered out.

So George gave just the one nod and sat at the very end of Harry’s knees, not far back enough for Harry to take much of his weight at all. But then Harry’s hands splayed across his stomach and pulled him across his thighs so his back was against Harry’s chest. “Now I can see Marcel.” He muttered the explanation into George’s ear. And George shivered, again with the full bodied one that Harry would have felt on his thighs and chest and underneath his hands that were resting against his hips. “So how long have you two been together?” he asked, and George squeaked because he felt Harry’s fingers slip up the hem of his shirt, brushing against the skin of his hips. 

George looked to Marcel, who was just staring and growing more and more flushed. 

“George?” Harry breathed into his ear, hands moving across his thighs. 

“We, uh. It’s… complicated?” 

“Hmm?” Harry nosed along his neck and against the back of his ear, and George was panting. “How so? Was that your first kiss?” Harry’s hands were moving again, trailing along the inseam of his jeans, one stopping over his crotch and adding the slightest bit of pressure to his jean clad cock. 

And George groaned, dropping his head back onto Harry’s shoulder because the hand on his cock was moving now, just back and forth, and the other hand was pushing up his shirt, tracing the lightest of patterns on his stomach. 

“Marcel? Was that your first kiss with George?” Harry teased, and George fluttered his eyes open to see that Marcel was perched at the front of the desk, palm pressing down into his own crotch, nodding his head so hard his glasses were falling askew. “Was it nice?” Harry unbuttoned George’s pants.

“Yes.” Marcel groaned. 

“Was it hot?” Harry pulled down the zip.

“Yes.” 

“Would you like to suck George off while he’s here on my lap?” Harry’s hands pushed George’s jeans and underwear down below his ass to the sound of the others’ moaning. And Marcel nodded and settled himself between four impossibly long legs, sitting up on his knees and wrapping his hand around the base of George’s cock and just holding it. He looked up at Harry and Harry muttered “I’ve got his hips, do whatever you want to him.” 

And Marcel’s lips were around his cockhead, tongue curling up against his cock as he slowly took in more. George jolted at the sensation, at the wet heat around him, at Marcel’s fingers digging into his thigh, at Harry’s possessive hold on his hips. And Harry’s erection, hot and persistent against his ass. George squeezed his eyes tight and groaned, dropping his head back to Harry’s shoulder. 

“Watch him.” Harry breathed hot into his ear, then pressed his lips lightly against his neck. Until he opened his eyes and his gaze dropped down to Marcel; then Harry began to lick and suck and graze his teeth lightly against his skin. Marcel was getting more confident, swallowing a little more cock each time. His glasses were on the floor between his knees, his hair was wild and sticking to his forehead, and George reached out his hand to grab a handful of it. It made Marcel moan, and his fingers dig harder into his thighs, and the hand on the base of his cock to start jacking. 

And George came, suddenly shooting down Marcel’s throat. And the other boy pulled off him, quick enough to get some come on his chin and mouth and cheek. 

“Fuck.” Harry groaned, and Marcel grinned and pushed himself up to kiss George deep and wet and dirty. And Harry gripped the back of his head to get a taste himself, licking George out of Marcel’s mouth, off his cheek and chin. “You going to return the favour George?” 

George slid down to the ground, down on his knees in front of Marcel, and made quick work getting his pants down around his ankles. Marcel was already hard and leaking.

Harry groaned from above them, and George turned to see his cock in his hand, stroking slowly as he watched them. George gripped on to Marcel’s hips and took his cock into his mouth, licking the underside, drawing little patterns with his tongue, swiping the slit. He hollowed his cheeks and cupped Marcel’s balls with a hand, just lightly, supplying warm pressure. And Marcel bucked his hips unexpectedly, his cock hitting the back of George’s throat and making him gag. He pulled out for a moment, continuing to jack the cock with his hand until he could breathe again. He felt Harry’s fingers tug lightly at a bunch of his hair, almost desperately, so he slid his mouth over Marcel again. The hand in his hair stayed, fingers buried against his scalp, lightly pushing George into Marcel. Who was groaning and moaning and muttering curses under his breath. 

“Fuck, you look so fucking good.” Harry groaned, hand slip sliding down his cock, and George could hear it getting faster. So he gripped onto the back of Marcel’s thighs and sucked in as much of his cock as he could. He breathed through his nose and moved back and forth as quick as he could, wet lips sliding against his shaft and tongue prodding at his slit, and George felt Harry’s hand clench in his hair before he heard Harry groan and something wet hit the back of his head and dribble down his neck. 

“I’m c-coming.” Marcel stuttered out as he came, and George tried hard to swallow it because by the sounds of it he was already covered in enough come. And Harry’s fingers were playing with it, rubbing it even further into his hair. 

George pulled off of Marcel with a wet smack of his lips, and Marcel looked down at him with a large grin on his face. George stood, glasses in hand, and slid them back onto Marcel’s nose. Then he kissed him fully, ignoring Harry’s muttering in the background so he could taste as much of himself in Marcel as he could. 

“You’ve helped enough, thanks.” Marcel muttered over George’s shoulder. And George wanted to see the look on Harry’s face, but he much preferred to be looking at Marcel. So he looked at his dimpled grin and into his big green eyes and grinned right back. And pressed their lips together, which really did match up perfectly.


End file.
